SheFallsSoftly

I feel as if I have no history. I have no collective past to call back to. My grandfather used to tell me all about boyish ways in golden days. The days of youth are not so clean and free as the generation before. I remember my supernintendo fondly, not holding hands in the dime store.

I told my friends this, they told me all about the feminists, about “I am woman, hear me roar.” How can I be proud of a heritage which I disgrace, all pumps and frills and lipgloss? Equality is an ongoing history that I have no part of.

Others have age, race, religion, ethnicity. I am Casey. I am a part of the Northern European Imbred Poor. I was raised atheist. None of the traditions mean anything anymore.

I celebrate my heritage in empty corporate holidays, I wear my identity in designer clothes. I am American and I emulate perfect identity-less beauty, I have second helpings at every meal. I waste. Constantly.

I am American and I will turn back the hands of time with chemicals and scalpels when I feel too old. I will suck out all of my fat and throw it away to lose weight. I do not know hunger. I medicate through pain. I have a winter and summer wardrobe.

I imagine that once my ancestors wore a tartan… My mother tells me I’m not very irish. I wear my red hair, pale skin, freckles like a question mark. I know who I am, but have no idea who I was.

And half jack.

Fuck you, November. Fuck you.

For all of my friends who knew Rebekah Burgess…

Shock is a subtle way to phrase it… Life is too short for all of this hatred and pain… but all of that hatred and pain make life beautiful. I guess I’m not in the best state to talk about this right now.

So, I’ve been working on essentially two art projects that have been overlapping.

The first is based in using Polaroid cameras to create transfer prints. Essentially, you pull apart the pictures, slap it on some paper, and there you go. I spent all day trying to do this. All day. And probably $10 worth of film. What did I get for it? Burns from vodka and developer on my hands, and the unpleasant knowledge that I’m using the wrong camera/film and I’ll need to get new ones. That’s alright. Kodak cameras are about $10 now because they’re all so dang old. It’s just a little frustrating to have wasted so much time.

The second concerns x-rays. I came across a seller for bunches of x-rays, and bought a number. I am going to, essentially, be using x-rays to shrink wrap sculptures. After trying to figure out how on earth I might melt the film (microwave=explosion, oven=discoloration, fire=burning) I came to the sudden conclusion that a heat gun is the answer, and have thus purchased one. It should arrive in the next few days at which point I’ll need to do a google search for “flammability” and “plaster of paris.” You know, safety’s first and all of that.

Art makes me feel good about myself.. It’s sort of like being useful, but more interesting.

It’s hard to give the last word… I’ve gotten good at it, but I suppose I’m failing this time. I need to be away from him. I’m willing to leave the state to do it, and will as soon as I can… All I’m asking him is for the courtesy to quietly ignore me when it becomes necessary. With any luck the situation won’t come up again.



UCO was this weekend. The quarters curse resurfaces, but at least I was first speaker. I made myself sick by taking too many antihistamines (which my doctor prescribe to me as an anti-anxiolytic) and had to cough my way through the round today. The judging pool was supremely sketchy, but it’s all over and done now.



I’m feeling as if debate as a whole might be over and done with for me. I’ve just gotten to the point that I don’t enjoy it anymore. Why bother? I’m exhausted by all of its energies, and I’m not prepared to put even more into it.



I feel like I may be falling back into a little pit of depression. I suppose I should go see the doctor again, and perhaps get an anxiety medication that actually works. I’ve had too many panic attacks in recent days to feel alright about the world.



Looks like I’m going home for thanksgiving. What a surprise.. :-\ All well.



He’ll be here in just a few days, and that makes everything sounds so much better…

I’ve found myself inexplicably in love with Kanye West’s "Graduation" album. Just.. holy shit. It’s so good.

You know what’s beautiful? The whole wide world sometimes. I suppose it’s the onset of winter, but I’ve been so down recently… It’s nice to pull my head above water now and then.

Justin’s coming to town next friday. I am more excited than I can put into words.

So I’m working on all sorts of new dance projects… Attempting to finagle my way into Lynna’s Ballet II class, hoping to get a solo piece choreographed for auditions for various dance schools once I’m in (please let me be in) New York. Dance show is December 7, I think… It’s a lovely little thing to be a part of.

Speaking of things that it’s lovely to be a part of, I was in the Gazette’s Ghouls Gone Wild parade for Pseudodance/Nicole Moan. I wore a gorgeous corset and played with a bubble gun, as seen here:

Additionally, in the Halloween spirit we threw a "Mad Tea Party" themed party at which many of us shrunk, some of us grew, but all of us got drunk. I am presently still hungover from that little parade through wonderland, but it was well worth it. My costume was lovely, I’m sure eventually I’ll get around to uploading those pictures.

Today was Mikale’s birthday, and we celebrated a bit last night with singing and whatnot, and then more today with dinner at Sake, a japanese steakhouse right her in Nompton, which was lots of fun. It made us all an hour late to a debate meeting, which is really the best of all possible worlds.

UCO tournament is this weekend, which isn’t particularly a bastion of anticipation for me, but as of tomorrow I’ll be a week away from seeing him and just thinking of that makes the whole world a touch more bearable.

A recent bout of insomnia renders me awake at this lovely 2 in the morning, and I’m not certain it’s a change for the better. I still wake up at the same time, I just wake up exhausted. Lovely, right?

Oh, also, I worked at target for right about 2 days before quitting. Fuck work. Student loans are where it’s at.

I wonder what would happen if I posted an ad on craigslist looking for a pimp… Hmm.

November creates a chasm in my chest that’s filled by elation when I hear from him… Lovely, lovely world this is.